


who knows who you could've been?

by orphan_account



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 22:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “That’s the thing, Adora,” Catra says, pulling her hand away bitterly. “I don’t want to be your right hand. I never did.”Based on the theory that Catra ends up leaving the Horde but starting her own, separate rebellion.





	who knows who you could've been?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [locuas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/locuas/gifts).



“Scorpia and Entrapta out on recon, huh?” a voice behind Catra says hesitantly, because of course Adora is here again.

Well, no, not Adora. She-Ra. The Princess of Power, softly luminous and golden and currently awkward as hell, trying to maintain the aura of an eight-foot warrior goddess in Catra’s tiny scrapyard of a home. 

Catra snorts. “You’re in full princess form just for me? Should I feel flattered?”

"I didn’t know if there’d be any Emilys this time around, excuse me for wanting to be safe. Not particularly fond of narrowly avoiding laser machines.”

“Really? ‘Cause that’s like, basically your job description.”

Adora–She-Ra–smiles and sits to the floor, brushing away some of Entrapta’s scrap metal and casting her eyes around the room. Catra is suddenly deeply self-concious about her tiny hovel, buried deep in an old junkyard days away from both Bright Moon and the Fright Zone. It sure wasn’t a castle, far from the glittery palace She-Ra devoted her life to protecting. 

Catra’s neck prickles. Her home may not have a million spacious corridors and pastel guards at every corner, but it was her home, her’s and Scorpia’s and Entrapta’s, and it wasn’t right of She-Ra to make her suddenly care what she thinks, suddenly want the precious Chosen One to approve of her new life. It was so unfair of Adora to do that, to just exist and make Catra feel she would never be enough. 

She-Ra picks up one of Scorpia’s drawings, smiles one of her unreadable smiles, puts it back down. Catra is so on edge it’s like there’s an ambush waiting for her just outside. She wishes she was doing something before she showed up, something to pretend-busy herself with to distract her from She-Ra’s glowing, irritating presence. The one day she doesn’t have to escaping from something with her life on the line and the Rebellion’s star princess shows up. It’s almost worse.

“It might not look like much, but trust me, if you were a Horde soldier, you would’ve been diced or blasted to bits by now,” Catra blurts, bristling. “Entrapta’s got traps all over this place, it’s more secure than Rogelio’s stash of contraband stuck under the third level floorboards.”

She-Ra raises her eyebrows. “Well, then it can’t be all that secure at all, considering we’d sneak out all the time to read his dumb action books.”

Catra snickers. “Okay, fine as secure as Rogelio thought his stash of junk was. As secure as it was to everyone except us. Happy?”

“Very,” she says, smiling so brightly and so like Adora that Catra has to turn away, suddenly feeling sour.

“Can you–not be She-Ra right now?” she forces out, turning to a map of the Horde’s new base and studying it intently. 

She doesn’t respond, but Catra sees Adora’s shadow shrink, feels the warmth in the room dissipate slightly. Catra still can’t bring herself to turn around, tracing her eyes instead over the base’s endless maze of hallways and chambers. It was a lot more complicated than she remembered old Horde bases being. It’d been a long time since she’d called the Horde her home, and only very recently that she’d finally found one. 

“I’m–I’m not transformed anymore,” Adora says after Catra doesn’t respond for a long moment. “Sorry, I go back and forth so often I forget–well, you know. It’s confusing. It’s all really confusing."

Catra sighs. “I know.”

She takes a deep breath and faces her and–

I’ve missed you so much it hurts, she thinks, pushing down the emotions fighting to show on her face. I miss you and it hurts so, so much.

Because it’s Adora, so different and so much like the way she was and Catra can’t tell which pains her more, what’s changed or what hasn’t. She looks stronger, wearier, new scars covering her skin and old ones fading away, but her eyes are still so bright, and hopeful, and compassionate in a way Catra could never understand, could never fathom if she devoted every day to trying. She-Ra could rally troops, but Adora, sitting in Catra’s house of rubble, eyes shining, could make Catra do anything in Etheria.

Except–not really, right? Because Adora couldn’t convince her to leave the Horde, or fight alongside princesses, or stop getting in the way of her cherished Rebellion. Catra had done all of those things, yes, but she’d done them on her own, she’d been making her own decisions ever since Adora had left the Horde for Bright Moon all those years ago. Adora couldn’t even make Catra stay by her side, even though that was what Catra wanted more than anything in the world. So yeah, really, Adora couldn’t make Catra do anything for her. She could just make Catra want to do everything for her. 

And that, Catra knew, was just as dangerous. 

“What do you want?” Catra says, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the wall.

Adora looks up at her, disappointed in that distinctly Adora way that always raised Catra’s hackles. “We can catch up first, can’t we?”

Catra rolls her eyes. “Sure. Are Seahawk and Mermista dating yet? How’s Perfuma’s greenhouse? Did Bow and Glimmer ever figure out that ultimate best friend handshake?”

“No, good, and yes, but Bow did get accidentally punched in the face in the process.”

Catra snickers. “Couldn’t have been much worse when he accidentally set you on fire.”

“It was my suggestion to add firework arrows, it’s not all his fault!”

“Oh, I don’t blame him at all, you were being really stupid and you deserved it.”

Adora laughs, and Catra’s heart twists for a moment before she brushes it off. “I can’t believe you’re still mad at me for that.”

“What? I don’t care, you can endanger yourself however you want.”

“Please.” Adora stands up and moves towards Catra. You’re all fluffed up, you can’t lie.”

She reaches out to ruffle Catra’s hair and Catra is too slow to stop her. Catra freezes under her touch; Adora doesn’t seem to notice. 

“See, all your fur’s standing on end, you always do that,” Adora says fondly, still running her fingers through Catra’s hair. “You’ve changed, but you haven’t changed enough.”

“Gross, shut up.” Catra pushes Adora away, twitching her ears. “Fine, I’m still mad. You totally could’ve burned to death if Mermista wasn’t there.”

“I’ve had worse near-death experiences, and you know what? We did manage to incorporate fireworks, so it turned out amazing,” Adora shoots back, beaming. 

“Well, yay, good for you. Another success for the Best Friend Squad.”

“It’s one of our greatest accomplishments,” Adora agrees proudly. “What about you, how’s the Super Pal Trio?”

Catra growls. She’s polite as ever. “Please, don’t pretend you care.”

Adora’s smile falters. “Don’t say that.”

“Why, because it’s true?”

“Because it isn’t.” Adora steps back and narrows her eyes. “I don’t know why you still feel like nobody in Bright Moon wanted you around. Everyone liked you guys just fine.”

Catra laughs, but it’s devoid of any of the affection she’d felt just moments ago. 

“Oh yeah, everyone was thrilled to have us around,” she drawls. “Being forced to tolerate three former Horde soldiers and certified outcasts because the Queen’s pet vouched for them, I’m sure they–“

“What more could we have possibly done to make you feel like you belonged?”

Catra scoffs, mostly because she doesn’t know how to answer. Everyone at Bright Moon really was nice to them, much nicer to them than they even deserved. They treated them with kindness, never brought up their differences, gave them the same respect as anyone else. There was nothing more they could’ve done, they went above and beyond to prove their acceptance. But Catra remembers how often she and Scorpia and Entrapta were off by themselves, skipping dinners and avoiding guards, lurking alone in the corners of courtyards far from the kindness and respect of Bright Moon members. There was no pressure to be perfect, endlessly thankful for everyone’s forgiveness. Somehow, it was just easier that way, the three of them. 

(“We could be at their spring celebration, you know,” Catra had said once, as they holed up together in her asburdly large room listening to the party going on just outside.

“Nah,” Entrapta had said, coloring in Scorpia’s drawing of the rainbow fountain just outside the hall. “They’re sweet, but they’d rather that we weren’t there.”)

Truthfully, Catra doesn’t know if there’s anything Adora and her little crew could’ve done. They couldn’t change the fact that they were outsiders. No acts of pleasantries could remove the fundamental divide separating them from the princesses. The real princesses. It was just different. They were always different. They stood apart from them. Leaving the Rebellion was just acknowledging that reality. 

“Stop acting like you don’t know,” Catra finally says instead. 

Adora groans, frustration set in the line of her jaw. “I never know, and you never tell me.”

Catra rolls her eyes; Adora keeps going on.

"Why is it so hard to believe you had a place there? Everyone loved you, I loved–having you around, after so long being on different sides of the war. You had a place.”

Adora takes her hand suddenly, and Catra flinches. 

“We couldn’t have done so much without you. You were a part of the Rebellion, just as important a part as anyone else. You were always by my side, you were my right hand, without you I can't–“

Catra curls her lip and tries not to start screaming.

“That’s the thing, Adora,” she says, pulling her hand away bitterly. “I don’t want to be your right hand. I never did.”

She looks down at the floor. It was so unfair of Adora, to be as bright as the sun even without a magical aura. 

“I don’t want to exist in your shadow,” she says, balling her hands into fists until her claws draw blood. "I’ve spent my whole life looking up to you. I need to know who I am on my own. I can’t stand to be around you anymore."

Almost as much as I can’t stand not being around you, she thinks. 

Adora’s eyes are wide, brimming with tears. Catra fights back a sudden surge of anger. She’s spent so much time away from the Fright Zone, and despite it all, the sight of emotion makes her nauseous. She never left the Horde fully. You can’t really leave your home.

“You hurt me too, you know.” Adora’s voice cracks, but doesn’t waver. “You think I’m untouchable. Everyone does. But you hurt me so much. Not just what you did in the Horde, even though that was pretty fucking bad.”

Catra sighs. She does know. She knows too well. Any time she feels too stable, too comfortable, too happy, she hears that in her head. Know this, and sober yourself: you’ve done too much to deserve to be happy. All you deserve left is to fight for the people you’ve hurt.

She swallows. “I’m still sorry, if that means anything.”

Adora’s gaze is unflinching. “Well, if it means anything, I’m sorry too. For everything.”

She sighs and turns towards the door. “I’ll see you around?”

Catra nods dumbly, and Adora walks away. A million years ago, Catra was destroying herself over Adora doing that exact thing, but now–it’s different. Because the story of her life isn’t just Adora walking away and Catra being left behind. She’s walked away, too. She has a place of her own to go now.

**Author's Note:**

> your fic is amazing


End file.
